Mint Condition (Animorphs)
by SilverHawk92
Summary: I'm having trouble writing a summary; but that's okay, because I don't want to spoil it for you. Additionally, I apologize for any imperfections. I've only seen the movies and read one, maybe two of the books! (I don't own any though. So I'm really just winging it. I hope it's a decent attempt.) Oh, and I'm sorry if some words are hyphenated; it was justified and I can't fix it yet
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Just something I'm working on while working through writer's block on everything else. Starting new books without finishing old ones is a bad habit I have; and I apologize for my __unpredictability._

The sky was an ethereal, greenish-yellow glow. If death had a color, that would be it. Small snowflakes spun lazily to blend in with the blanket of white that spread across the dead, frozen grass.

From her place on a giant crate in the alley, a figure of a person watched as tree branches gave in to the pressure of the snow that gathered on their limbs. Some branches could withstand the weight, and only snapped perkily up when the weight was lifted. Other branches fell with the snow.

The figure rose and began trudging across the street, which glowed dimly in the illumination of the street lights. As the shadowy form moved across the empty road, the boots she wore tracked the prints of rubber treads across the surface of the virgin snow.

Bending down and seizing one of the branches, the girl rose again and methodically brushed it clean with her gloved hands. Winter's chill bit through the wool, sending a skittering shudder down her cloaked spine.

She knew not why she wore clothes to warm her body. The dead have no heartbeat, and no blood. Thus, the dead have no body heat. But perhaps one of the reasons was that the clothes she donned had belonged to her late grandmother. It was comfortable; and sometimes she could catch the faintest scent of her perfume, still trapped within the fabric. The style was out of date by a few decades; but Rachel did not care about fashion anymore.

No one could see her.

Unless they were dead, too.

Her passion for fashion hadn't been the only thing to die with her. Upon the event of her ethereal reanimation, she had found herself burdened with a crushing emptiness. She could see her loved ones, but could not be seen in return.

Realizing she was dead had been almost as brutal as watching her loved ones, both friends and family, grieve her loss. It had been a drizzly Monday; and she had awoken under a white sheet. She had tried brushing the blanket off, but instead her hands had gone right through it. She saw the stiff, cold lump of a body under the sheet, but she had been unable to lift the blanket to see who it was. Then she realized she was inside the body; something that should have been impossible.

For the living.

Rachel had then realized she was dead. She had gotten to her feet and walked to the door, which she passed right through as if it were open. To her surprise, she was assaulted by the view of her parents sobbing, clinging onto each other, standing in a room filled with soft chairs. Most of the chairs were empty; but the ones that were filled were occupied by Jake, Cassie, Tobias, and Marco. Jake had been sitting with his hands clenched into fists - his eyes boring holes into eyes of the desk clergy; as if it had been her fault his cousin was dead - as if perhaps he thought she had taken this job to enjoy the sight of people mourning the departed.

Cassie had been hunched over, with her elbows on her knees. Her hands had been covering her eyes and her shoulders shook as she wept. Marco had a hand on her shoulder, but he was in too much shock to be any more comforting than that. His eyes were glossy and bright with unshed tears, and he looked one of the walls, close to the ceiling, as if he were looking for the Blade Ship that transported Rachel's killer.

And Ax was there, too, in his human form. Unlike the rest of Rachel's friends; he stood, like her parents. He was looking out the window, and in his reflection his lips were moving. Rachel had approached him, and she heard the words he spoke, softly, to himself: "I will return home." That was all he said, over and over, in a methodic litany.

Since that day, Rachel had been coming to terms with her new state of life, or lack thereof. She was okay with it now. She knew that one day, her friends would join her; and they would be eternally reunited.

But they didn't know that. They had never been dead before; and were unaware of the reanimation process. Rachel had been a courageous and bold young woman; but she had done nothing to deserve eternal damnation in hell, nor had she done anything to deserve eternal glory in heaven. As for religion, her views had no effect on the events of her afterlife. This was just how it was; and Tom, who visited her in the same ghostly, spectral manifestation, was proof of her theory.

One day, Jake, Cassie, Tobias, and Marco; and her parents, and their parents would join her. They would meet their fate and become what she was now - a ghost. They would see her again, at last. It was what gave Rachel the ability to smile in the face of mourning loved ones with whom she could not yet commun-icate, or even console. But one day she would be able to. Until then, her friends and family would have to either sit tight and wait for that day; or hasten its approach. And when each of their fates were given to them; she would find them, and let them know the true meaning of life, and loss.

It was the meaning of reunification, and eternal togetherness.

And although it sounded horrific, Rachel sometimes wished somebody, any person in her group of good friends, would hasten the approach of their death. It sounded terrible, and she knew it; but she longed to feel one of them - just one of them. She was tired of sitting across from them, and being unheard and over-looked.

But, it was not permanent. The cost of life and loss came with that promise; and it would be worth it all.

Rachel willed her hand to become as insubstantial as the rest of her had remained, and the stick dropped to the ground. Her ears had caught the sound of voices - familiar voices. Turning, she saw Jake and Cassie heading toward the line of parked cars. From where she stood, her cousin's familiar voice floated to her on the winter wind. "Do you mind if I...crash at your place tonight? I really don't want to see Tom's room."

"I understand. That's okay."

"Thanks, Cassie."

"Don't worry about it. I know how it feels, to..." Her voice trailed off as they locked eyes. "You know," Cassie ended lamely.

Jake was nonresponsive as he pulled open the driver's side door. Cassie walked around to the passenger side and got in. Jake buckled and automatically reached to unbuckle. "Damn," he said, surprising Cassie. "The bags are in the backseat."

"I can get them from here," Cassie replied, touching his arm. He took his hand off the door handle as her words stopped him from going back into the falling snow.

Cassie twisted and grabbed the bags; her eyes passing right through Rachel's soft gaze, her hands passing right through Rachel's invisible body. Cassie pulled the bags between her seat and Jake's, and he smiled his thanks at her and dug through the contents. He pulled out two pairs of gloves; and Jake and Cassie each pulled on a pair. Rachel was wondering why they had to wear them inside the car when the car started moving; and the car was filled with an unending breeze, bringing with it an icy chill.

Rachel's keen eyes easily located the passenger window, which was open just a crack. No, she realized, it was closed all the way. It was broken. Snowflakes slipped in through the window and beaded Cassie's braids.

"I'm making stew tonight," Cassie said into the cloying silence. Then she quickly added, "I could make something else, if you want."

"No, stew's great. But could you put mine in the fridge? I'll be late."

"Sure."

"Thanks."

Another awkward silence. Finally, Cassie said, "Mind if I ask why?"

Jake stopped at the stop sign. "I'm going to the graveyard. Put some daisies out for Rachel. She loved daisies."

Cassie nodded slowly. "That she did."

Rachel smiled at their remembrance of her. It helped to ease the loss of them with which she dealt. Yes - in their own special way, ghosts also grieve. They mourn the loss of the living.

The remainder of the car ride to Cassie's house was filled with idle chit chat shadowed by a greater silence. Their bond was outweighed by a tension bigger than the both of them. But finally, Jake pulled his car to a slippery stop in front of Cassie's house.

Cassie just sat there, hands entwined in her lap. She looked at Jake, who was already looking at her. Her cheeks flushed and she looked hastily away; but Jake's hand on hers brought her gaze back up to his face. "Cassie, I need to tell you some-thing."

Cassie's big, dark, expressive eyes searched his imploringly. He could see the kindness of her soul within their depths. Yet for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to say the words he had wanted to speak for months. So he squeezed her hand in a silent apology and disentangled his from her grasp. "I don't like onions," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

Cassie only smiled, trying to telegraph her patience into his unprepared heart. "I know, Jake. I know that."

Her soft voice eased his eyes back to meet hers again. Her smile remaining on her lips, she put one hand on the door handle and her other hand on his arm. "Drive safe," she said simply, and, after depositing a kiss on his cheek, opened the passenger door. She was making her way to the house before Jake cursed his apprehension and his reserve; unaware that his words fell on listening ears.

As Jake was criticizing his timidity, Rachel swung her legs to the side of the backseat and slipped through the car door. When she stood, she was in the cold, open air of the night.

The back tires spun on the ice, but the front tires were on a patch of grass. Slowly, the car lurched onto dry ground and drove away. The sound of chunks of snow, frozen grass and frosty gravel under the tires was a rather pleasant sound. Jake didn't know it, but Rachel waved as he drove away.

Sighing her sadness to the glowing, enlarged moon; Rachel saw Cassie bent at the waist, tying up her shoelace. Rachel walked up behind her, and snow crunched enticingly under her feet.

Cassie paused and lifted her head. "Hello?"

Rachel came to a stop. After a moment, Cassie resumed tying up her lace. Then she grabbed the bag she had deposited on the driveway, straightened, and walked toward the house. Rachel followed. Tom was standing next to the door, and Cassie put in her keys and let herself in; completely unaware she was being accompanied by two members of the dead.

Rachel managed a smile at Tom; and when she spoke, her voice echoed ethereally - a ghost's voice always did. "Jake went to the graveyard. He'll be back soon."

"Alright." Tom put an arm around his cousin, and she felt her mood lift at the human contact. She was always in higher spirits around other ghosts. Their touch did not go through her; and hers did not go through them. They felt as real as they would if they were both alive. It was only living things and inanimate things a ghost could not touch. She could pick something up if she wanted to. She could sit down without falling through the chair. She could even ascend the porch stairs without going through the foundation. But she, and every other ghost, could not touch the living; nor could they physically open doors. (Not like they needed to.)

But there was an upside. When human contact was lacking; the animals could sense a ghost's presence. And when Rachel was alone in the barn, she could actually touch the animal's fur.

Maybe the animals were just exceptionally sensitive to spirits.

Or maybe her power to morph had given Rachel a connection to them. Suddenly Rachel found herself wondering if she could morph as a ghost. And if she could, would her animal form be a ghost, too?

Still encompassed within her cousin's warmth, the pair walked through the wall and found Cassie in the kitchen, taking a can of gravy from the bag in which Jake had retrieved the gloves. Ingredients for a recipe dinner were scattered near the bag. Cassie had already removed her shoes, gloves, and washed her hands; but she still wore her coat. Her hands and cheeks were still red from the chilly drive home.

"Hey, Cassie," Aisha said, as she walked into the kitchen.

"Hey," she replied, taking the can opener from a drawer. "Jake's coming over for supper."

"How nice," her mother answered pleasantly. "How's he doing?"

"He's surviving." Cassie paused, and then slammed the can opener down onto the counter. "Damn it!" she cursed. "What's wrong with me?"

"Honey!" Aisha hurried around the kitchen and pulled her daughter into a hug. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You just chose the wrong words." She stroked her daughter's hair, trying not to weep as Cassie began crying. "We can't tiptoe around the English language. Sometimes these things will just slip out."

Cassie was sobbing too brokenly to reply.

"Here, sweetie, I'll make the stew. Why don't you go have a nice hot soak? You can microwave yours when you're done."

"O-o-okay," Cassie said shakily. Aisha released her daughter, reverently squeezed her shoulder, and Cassie turned and walked with leaden feet to her bedroom. Aisha washed her hands and began preparing the stovetop and ingred-ients to make supper.

Rachel didn't realize she, too, was crying until Tom pulled her into a sideways hug. "Hey, it's a part of grief," he said.

"I know, but I wish she didn't have to grieve." Rachel wiped her eyes and watched Aisha begin cooking. "I hate seeing my friends hurt and being unable to do a damn thing."

Tom tried to comfort her. "That's alright; they have one another."

"For how long?" Rachel asked; and her voice mirrored the emptiness in her heart. Tom remained silent and the pair stood side by side, watching life go on around them.


	2. Chapter 2

Jake grabbed the bouquet of daisies and got out of the car; and closed the driver side door with such vehemence that the window on his side shattered. "Piece of junk," Jake said, and kicked the side of the car. "Worthless piece of crap on wheels."

Sighing his irritation to the indifferent moon, he walked across the frozen, crispy grass. As he headed toward Rachel's grave, he did what he always did - he walked eastwardly, in a straight line from the gate to the big tree, directly under which was Rachel's grave; and as he passed each grave, he counted. He had gotten to the thirty-fourth grave when he saw another figure standing next to it. Thunder boomed and lightning lit up the graveyard.

Then the entire world went black once again. Pulling his scarf more snugly around his neck, Jake carried the bouquet to Rachel's grave.

The figure was gone. Like a phantom - or like a ghost.

Jake turned in a half circle as lightning illuminated the graveyard; but he could see nothing. He turned in a half circle in the other direction, but still he was the only person he knew was there.

"Fine time and place to be creeped out, hey, cousin?" Jake smiled as he bent and lay the daisies on the tombstone at his feet. "I wish you were here. We won. I'm not sure if I told you, or if someone else did...But it's over. Earth is free." He lifted a gloved hand and reverently touched the engraving of her name. "Now if you were alive - you and Tom - I would be too."

A cold breeze snapped his scarf up in the air. Shivering, he sighed and sat in the snow like a warmly dressed child - and he was neither a kid nor warm. He had to make it quick. "Ax went home. Left Earth. Marco left town. He's some big deal now, living a rockstar kind of life. I see him on TV sometimes. Sure is a different guy, Rach. Never mentions us, or anything. Think I'll call him tomorrow. See if he cares, you know?" Jake looked down and picked up a handful of snow. Turning his hand palm down, he watched the snow fall off. Some of it - and some of it stuck to his glove. "Cassie. She's the one that gets me. Things have changed between us, Rach. I love her. And I think she knows, but...she won't hurry me. She's letting me take my time." He gave a short, callous laugh that echoed in the stillness of the night. "Might sound crazy - it does even to me - but God, sometimes I wish she would just yell at me. You know? Tell me to say it already. Threaten me - because it's like ripping off a Band-Aid, right? Or jumping into cold water. The longer you wait, the slower you go; the more it'll hurt."

He sighed and let his head fall back onto the tree trunk. Then he gathered himself and stood. "I don't even know why I insist on freezing my nads off talking to stone. You can't hear me, can you? You're not alive. Don't have ears. What's the point? Can't talk to me." He turned away from the tombstone, as if looking away from her death would bring her back to life. "Man, I miss you, cousin. I wish you could come home. It gets so tough there sometimes. No, wait. Let me correct myself. It's always tough; but sometimes it gets worse. And you know what, the others... They're lucky. They only lost you - a friend. I lost my brother, and my cousin; and that's hell. They say they understand, but they don't. They say they pity me - but how can they empathize something they can't even comprehend? Remember how Marco said our families were perfect? Well, theirs still are. I can relate to him, they can't, their families are still perfect; and that's how it is. It's not the way they think."

He finally turned back and bent, placing both hands on the tombstone. "If you were there, at home, with me; then I wouldn't have to be here, tonight, talking to a rock. All I have to look at is your name, and it's laughing at me, Rach. It's telling me I lost. And it won't shut the hell up!" With that, he pushed the tombstone over, sending her daisies flying into the snow.

Jake stood and jogged from the graveyard, leaving his cousin's stone overturned.

Approaching his car, he dug out his car keys and unlocked the driver side door. He got in, locked himself into the car, and started it up. He had only begun to inch forward when a loud popping noise shattered the silence. Following the gut-wrenching noise there came an irritating blowing sound, like...

...Air rushing out of a tire.

Squaring his jaw, Jake unlocked his door and kicked it open. Getting back out, he looked down to see the a shard from his broken window embedded into his tire; which was slowly deflating.

"Son of a - " Jake kicked his car again. Sighing and running a hand through his snow-beaded hair, he walked to the back of the car, grabbed his license plate, and ripped it off. Then he walked to the front and did the same thing. Opening up his jacket, he stuffed the license plates in a hidden inside pocket; then took his wallet and all his identification from the glove compartment. He proceeded to give the car another kick before turning and beginning the long walk back to Cassie's house.

From behind, the shaded figure of a man detached from the shadows and began to follow Jake.

Jake slipped on a patch of ice and slid half a foot before clumsily catching his balance. "Just give me a break!" he yelled into the evening air. Then he looked down at his watch. Only seven. His outburst most likely hadn't even woken up the kids on the block - it always got darker sooner at this time of year. It had been as dark as midnight since three hours before. Why, students were walking home from school in the dark at this time of year.

Jake smiled, infinitely glad those days were over. But...Rachel was alive in those days. His smile faded.

Again, Jake slipped. Unable to catch his balance, he fell to the sidewalk on his hands and knees. "Ugh, fine," he sighed. "Don't give me a break; just kick me when I'm down."

And he received a sharp kick in the leg. His hands slipped on the ice, but he recovered quickly. Glancing up, his glare was replaced by shock. "Ax! Man...why did you do that?"

Ax blinked innocently at him. "I thought you were being literal." He bent and offered his hand to Jake, and helped him stand. "My apologies, Pr...Uh, Jake."

Jake just clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, if anyone's gonna kick me, I'd rather it be a friend."

Ax smiled exuberantly and the pair held on to one another, heading toward Cassie's house; walking, slipping and sliding as one person until they cleared the ice patch on the sidewalk. Releasing Ax, Jake said, "How far into your time limit are you?"

Ax looked away, concentrating on where he put his feet. "Five hours."

Jake's feet came to a stop, but his mouth began to run. "What? Were you consciously aware you were near your two hours - I don't understand - why on Earth..."

"Exactly. On Earth. Yeerk-free Earth - the madness is over. I want to belong. Here. With you, and Cassie, and Tobias." Ax looked away again, biting his lip. "My Andalite family deserted me, Jake. My parents shunned me, believing I was the one who gave you and them the power to morph. They believed it because I told them."

"I remember. Not my finest moment, but yeah, I eavesdropped."

Ax nodded. "And my brother is dead. I realized I had more reason to be here than there."

Jake smiled again, grabbing the alien's shoulder as the pair came across a patch of black ice. The two clumsily navigated their way across it, and then once again released each other. "Welcome back, man. I wish Marco was at least here to greet you."

"I hold him in my memories - like Rachel."

"Like Rachel," Jake agreed. He began to slip again, but grabbed onto the pasture fencing that surrounded Cassie's property. Ax mimicked him and the pair used the steady support all the way to the barn. Upon approach, Jake grabbed the handle of the barn door instead and pushed it open; pleased when his boots touched soft Earthen dirt.

Cassie turned in surprise, a currycomb in one hand. She smiled at Jake, but when Ax walked into the barn, stomping the snow off his boots and slapping it off his head like he was afraid of his own hair; she dropped the comb, ran to him and threw her arms around him. He let out a choked laugh and lightly touched her shoulders. "Did you miss me?"

"Very much!"

Jake tried to quell his jealousy by picking up the currycomb and brushing the horse.

Grinning, Cassie released Ax and turned to retrieve the currycomb. Seeing that it was being taken care of, she instead grabbed the pitchfork and began removing the used hay. "Are you here to stay?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good." Cassie smiled. "I'll call Tobias tomorrow, see if he wants to come over. We could make egg nog and reminisce, or whatever."

Ax studied her actions; and then, surprising her, he bent and began gathering up the hay with his bare hands. Cassie laughed and shrieked; and Jake observed with a smile of amusement on his face.

From the upper loft, Rachel watched, a genuine smile - her first since her death - lifted her lips and touched her eyes. She turned and began backing her way down the ladder.

And her foot slipped on a rung. It broke in half and fell to the floor; causing Jake, Cassie and Ax to jerk in surprise. As one, their heads all went to the two halves of wood on the ground. Rachel held very still as Ax lifted his head - and his eyes locked with hers.

Rachel's breath caught. Slowly, tentatively, she lifted a hand and waved at him.

And his eyes lowered, scanning the rungs on the other side of her body. "Good thing nobody was on it."

"No kidding," Cassie laughed.

Rachel's heart sank. She pressed her head against the rung and closed her eyes against the hot sting of tears.


End file.
